Latin
#5
Let’s live, my Lesbia, and let’s love—
And not give a damn for the gossip
Of sanctimonious old fools.
Suns may fall—and rise again;
When once the brief light dims for us,
There’s but one long night for sleeping.
Give me a thousand, then a hundred kisses
Then a thousand and a hundred more
Again a hundred, again a thousand,
And after we’ve kissed so many, many kisses,
Let’s mix them all up, so we won’t know the number—
Or so some jealous sort can’t jinx us, trying
To discover just how many kisses there were.
A smattering of Latin poetry is found below.
Selections will alternate with mood and season, but for now it's all about Catullus.
Many of his poems are impolite and a few are downright scurrilous, so be forewarned:
I try to retain the piquancy and flavor of the vernacular in my translations.
One of the most passionate and exuberant works of what is known as the "Lesbia cycle," this poem provided the title for Nox Dormienda (A Long Night for Sleeping).
#27
Servant boy of old Falernian
Pour me some more bitter cups
As the law of Mistress Lately demands
Though she’s drunker than the drunken grape.
Now, you waters, flow to more receptive places.
You spoil wine, so go find some Carrie Nations.
This is a pure son of a B—acchus.
Drinking songs (poems) were very popular in antiquity—this is Catullus' version of "One More for the Road."
#58Caelius, our Lesbia—that Lesbia—
The Lesbia Catullus loved more than himself and all his family
Now, in crossroads and alleyways
Shucks the cobs of brave Remus’ grandsons.
This is, perhaps, the nadir of the "amour fou" Catullus-Lesbia affair. The verb Catullus uses to call Lesbia a "cob shucker" is clever and shockingly graphic, though it loses something in literal translation—which is why I've chosen the corn metaphor, instead.
#1
To whom do I give
This fresh and fine collection—
Still hot off the presses?
To you, Cornelius,
For you’re used to thinking my nothing’s something
Even when you alone dared to describe every era of Italy in three volumes.
A learned work, by God—and labored over.
So take it as you find it in this little book—
Whatever it is—
And let it live on, Muse, enduring
Through more than one age.
For this first selection of poems, I couldn't overlook Catullus' sweetly sarcastic dedication of his collection. The historian in question is Cornelius Nepos. And of course, every author wants her book to endure through more than one age.
